I recently tasted the awesomeness that is Monkey Bread - and it was awesome. Given that the cinnamon sugar flavor explosion is awesome, and tastes awesome too, I thought it would be awesome to let you taste how awesome it is for yourself.
Monkey Bread
3 packages of buttermilk biscuit tubes
1 cup sugar (divided)
2 tsp cinnamon
1 cup butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
Take 3 packages of buttermilk biscuit tubes (10 per roll) and cut each roll into 4 pieces. Drop roll pieces into 1 cup sugar and 2 tsp. cinnamon. drop sugar coated pieces into a well buttered bundt pan (don’t squish roll pieces when placing them in the bundt pan).
Put 1/2 cup of the left over sugar/cinnamon mix and 1/2 cup packed brown sugar and 1 cup of butter (2 sticks) into small sauce pan.
Bring this mixture just to a boil, take off heat right away. Carefully drizzle over the roll pieces.
Bake at 350 degrees for 30 min.
Cool slightly in an upright position, then tip pan over onto a plate to remove monkey pull-apart bread.
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The standard issue at St. Thomas is the semi-clear plastic cardholder, with a ring for keys. Nearly everyone has one, or a variation on it - it is enough to get you food, laundry, dorm access, room access, books, and groceries on campus. It is your life, encapsulated in a card and a key. That said, I lost mine today, if only for a short time.
My shorts had no pockets, so I did what anybody would do - hooked the keys around a shifter on my bike. This had been done many times before, and without incident. In this case, unfortunately, the keys popped off as I bounced off a curb and crossed Cretin Avenue. 200 yards later, I realized their usual jangling was absent and that I suddenly was no longer in possession of anything important from St. Thomas. I just lost all ability to eat, sleep, and identify myself.
Great.
Doing an about face, I kept my eyes to the ground, scanning for card and keys. I found them, in the middle of Cretin Avenue. During an interminably long green light, I watched helplessly as cars ran over my keys. Caught for a moment by the rapidly moving tires, the keys would fly up into the air, making a graceful arc, and then pound back into the road again. This repeated several times, and during each I hoped that the card case would not land on it’s side, to be blown to smithereens by the next car. A city bus approached. “Great” I thought, “the thing’s made it through three 3000 pound cars, but there’s no way a bus the size of a couple of elephants can do anything but annihilate what is left of my stuff.” With a turn signal, the bus left the intersection, and I received the “it’s a good time to walk” signal.
With the notable exception of a destroyed key ring, everything survived. Thankfully.
Bad things have happened at the Binz before, but recently my old standby has taken a beating. That is to say, I generally eat cereal if there is nothing else good to eat at the Binz. However, management at this fine cafeteria has left the same cereal in bins for the entire summer. Do you understand that? The entire summer. That means that, yes, the Apple Jacks I usually eat are not crunchy. They taste dusty. And when you bite them, they are chewy. CHEWYAPPLEJACKSARENOTTASTY.
Though, mooshy sugar bites that do not even taste like their namesake are not enough to merit a Food at the Binz post. Nay, yesterday I experienced something even worse. As you can imagine/assume, the granola has been subject to the same fate of the other cereals, and has essentially coagulated into one massive gran of ola. I chipped away at said pile this past morning, and dumped the contents into my bowl - good preparation for the winter ice scraping season, I figured. Walking back, I popped a large chunk of the cereal into my mouth, hoping (as any sane person would) to munch on it whilst walking. This was not an option. Why? I could not bite through the cereal. I steadily increased the pressure of my molars on the wet piece of concrete in my mouth, but mastication failed utterly. Embarassed, I furtively looked around, and then quickly took the piece out of my mouth, leaving it to soak in milk. After a couple of bowls of cereal, I contemplated the rocky mass in the bowl. I took my spoon and attempted to push the tip into the center of my bane. I could feel the other end of the spoon driving into my palm - it hurt. A lot.
I never managed to break up that granola, and left feeling let down and hurt by my old cereal friend.